


The Loving Force

by merry_amelie



Series: Academic Arcadia [290]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 14:03:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19111159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie
Summary: Swinging on the porch...





	The Loving Force

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback: Is treasured at merryamelie@aol.com (or leave a comment).
> 
> Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.
> 
> For  
> My beta Helen   
> Laura McEwan for posting to the Master Apprentice ML  
> Travis for posting to the Master Apprentice Archive on AO3   
> Alex for inspiring Arcadia

The porch swing creaked its own distinctive notes into the nighttime song of Alder Run on a lazy Friday evening in early June. This was Ian and Quinn's favorite time to be out there, savoring as many of the pleasures of spring in Upstate New York as their Force-enhanced senses could take in.

Copper and chestnut hair blended in the breeze as they enjoyed relaxing into the plump cushions of their swing overlooking the backyard. Quinn had found the cushions on sale at Watton's a couple of years ago - where he always liked to bargain up a storm, in spite of the fact that they didn't take credit cards, even his MasterGuard - and their blue and green tartan went beautifully with the sky-blue paint which Ian had chosen for the walls of the porch.. Quinn's guitar was propped up against the backrest on the other side of them, patiently waiting for him to serenade his laddie.

The temperature was only 59 degrees Fahrenheit tonight in Alder Run, or as Ian liked to call it, natural air conditioning. Ian had on a short-sleeved polo shirt, in a vibrant Caribbean aquamarine, on top of a pair of faded jean shorts. The breeze blew cool over the little hairs on his arms and legs. His hair was gleaming in the soft light of the porch, burnished-copper strands ruffled by both his herven and the wind. Judging by the contentment written all over his face, he looked like he could sit out here all night with his guid-man. (master/husband in Scottish)

Quinn was wearing even more casual clothing than he usually wore on a Friday night at home. He'd been surprised to discover that he'd run out of fresh clothes after dressing for work that morning and was very relieved that he had gotten through the week in his clean Luke uniforms. So he currently was in a t-shirt and a pair of heather-grey shorts that he'd bought during his first year at Luke, which he had providentially found in the bottom drawer of the dresser underneath Ian's old tracksuit.

He considered himself lucky that he wasn't wearing a pair of pajamas instead right now. Of course, leave it to Ian to prefer pjs even to sports clothes, he mused, knowing how much his lad liked to burrow into him. And his pajamas, with their v-neck and big buttons, were just made for burrowing.

His shirt had a skyhawk of vintage design in the university's characteristic colors of brown and cream, sporting a helmet on its head and a #1 in its claw, from the Skyhawks' transcendent year of 1999, when they had won the NCAA Football Championship, defeating the Darthmouth Maulers 38-11. Both the shirt and shorts were soft with age - Ian's fingerprints through the years written all over them *and* under them - and starting to get a bit threadbare.

Of course, Ian noticed this change of pace right away. He nuzzled into Quinn, all but purring. "Haven't seen you wear this shirt in years." He traced the skyhawk with a desultory fingertip.

Quinn captured his fingertip and gave it a lick. "That's because I haven't had the time to do my laundry for over a week," he said with a wink, delighted that Ian noticed everything - big and small - about him.

"No wonder there's still some detergent left for me," Ian said, winking back at him.

Quinn groaned. "It does take a lot of it to keep all 6'4" of me clean, now, doesn't it?"

"And I wouldn't have it any other way," Ian said earnestly.

Quinn nuzzled the copper strands beneath his lips in an answer more eloquent than words.

"You could always do a load of laundry tonight, you know," teased Ian, brushing his hand over the cozy cotton of Quinn's shirt. "It's still early enough, and I've already finished mine," he added with an adorably self-satisfied grin.

"Let's not go crazy, now." Quinn chuckled. "There's plenty of time for that this weekend, me boyo."

Ian nodded. "We've got better things to do this evening." He kissed the scruff on Quinn's chin, enjoying the feel of the soft whiskers on his lips.

Running his hand through coppery spikes, Quinn said, "I can think of a few." He smiled at Ian, his eyes softer than the fabric of his shirt.

"At least you didn't get your clothes from the hamper," Ian said appreciatively, taking a whiff of clean cotton. "Thank goodness for small favors," he couldn't resist adding.

Quinn smiled as he remembered rummaging through all of his drawers just to find something to wear tonight. "Would I do that to you, laddie mine?" he said, continuing to ruffle his husband's hair as if its copper were truly magnetic, at least to his fingertips.

Ian happened to look down at Quinn's moccasins just then and started to laugh. "You don't even have any socks on," he hooted. " Your laundry predicament is getting more hilarious by the moment."

Quinn's laughter blended with his husband's. "Keep your focus on the important things, Padawan," he said teasingly. "At least we have fresh sheets on our bed for later tonight." 

"And do we ever need them!" Ian snorted, his eyes gleaming as he thought of their lovemaking last night.

The sheets had been wet, creased, and permeated with their combined scent, so it was lucky that they had four sets of linens for the bed. The old sheets were currently waiting their turn for the next load of laundry, along with Quinn's clothing. Bedclothes and Quinn's clothes both made for a hefty load.

"Priorities, darlin', priorities." And with this sage comment, Quinn melted even deeper into the cushions.

"Excuse me for just a wee bit," Ian said in an intimate whisper into Quinn's ear, which rustled the little hairs of his sideburns. "Be right back." He got up and went into the kitchen, whistling 'By Allan Stream'.

Wondering what his considerate lad might be getting up to in there, Quinn's stomach rumbled in anticipation. He distracted himself by playing meandering chords on his guitar, his hands guided by the Living Force, out in all of its glory tonight. He was joined by nature's chorus - a pair of owls hooted on an oak-tree branch; a chipmunk scurried into the nearest hedge; crickets chirped in the grassland by the river; a neighborhood cat meowed an impromptu accompaniment as it was passing through the yard.

Fortunately, Quinn didn't have long to wait to satisfy his curiosity about what Ian was doing. Only a little more than ten minutes passed before he saw his herven's grinning face in the doorframe, lit by porchlight. Ian had left the screen door open and came out holding a tray with two vanilla malteds and a plate of Prudence's macadamia-nut brownies on it.

"Ah, laddie, thank you. I love these even more than the bat brownies Prudence makes us for Halloween." Quinn beamed at him. "And the malteds look creamier than the shakes at Milkshake Micah's.."

"High praise, indeed," Ian said. "Hope this is a feast fit for my Knight." He gave Quinn a little bow.

"Thank you, Padawan mine," Quinn rumbled, his eyes crinkling in good humor.

Ian loved it when Quinn used this particular endearment for him; it stood out among the many his husband had gifted him with over their years together. And he was sure he wasn't imagining a Coruscanti lilt to Quinn's voice. 

Quinn got up to help him with their snack and whimsically bowed back, musing that this was what an alternate version of the Jedi tea ceremony must be like. He took the tray from Ian so he could put it on the table, which was by his side of the swing.

They sat down and Quinn handed Ian his shake first, then took his own, fancifully tapping it to Ian's cup. "To endless Friday nights with me laddie! Our own little bit o' heaven."

"No place better in the whole galaxy," Ian agreed with enthusiasm, then took his first sip. "Ahh, just what I needed," he sighed happily.

Quinn noticed that his shake had tiny bits of vanilla bean swirled through it, in spite of the dim light of the porch, thanks to the Force-enhanced vision he took for granted. The natural vanilla flavor made it even more delicious.

Both of them sipped their shakes slowly, savoring each frosty mouthful. Then, Quinn held a brownie for Ian to take a bite. He nibbled on the corner in an enchanting tease, relishing its rich dark chocolate and chopped nuts. Closing his eyes in pleasure as chocolate met vanilla in his mouth, Ian was the very picture of bliss.

"You give 'filling in the corners' a whole new meaning, m'lad," Quinn said. This quote from 'The Fellowship of the Ring' was one of their favorites. "Professor Tolkien would most heartily approve."

Ian grinned in delight. "Oh, I'm sure you're right about that, what with your Gandalf seminar, our taste for mushrooms, and your heritage as part wizard-part hobbit, with a dash of Ent thrown in for good measure."

"Ent that the truth," Quinn couldn't resist quipping, knowing that it was sure to please his laddie.

Ian obliged him with a groan, just as Quinn had done for him countless times through the years. "And Tolkien also would've approved of our backyard."

"Indeed he would have - looks like our own wee bit of the Shire to me," Quinn said, gazing at the wooded paradise a few feet away from them, complete with his spring garden of blooming nasturtiums, safflowers, and marigolds. Bilbo Baggins himself would have definitely felt at home out here.

Ian finished his milkshake and a brownie, while Quinn managed to gobble up two brownies as well as his shake. Quinn carried the tray back into the kitchen and did the dishes, with Ian drying as usual. Quinn replaced Artoo and Sandy's food and water in their bowls, and Ian turned on the night-light for them, as Quinn clicked off the light in the kitchen. The puppies were already asleep in their baskets, with their cute little whoofs adding to the music outdoors.

The men strolled out to the porch again, both of them thinking of adding a bit of their own music to the mix before they went to sleep. They settled on the cushions, with Ian giving his husband room to play this time. Quinn picked up his guitar and asked, "What's your pleasure tonight, my love?"

Ian looked up at the stars, seeing Arcturus shining down on them with its gentle radiance. "How 'bout 'Stairway to Heaven'?" he said. The Led Zeppelin classic was one of Ian's perennial favorites, and he asked Quinn to play it every couple of months.

Quinn smiled at him in understanding; the song had a special place in his heart, as well. The ballad had first come out in 1971, the year he was born, giving it a unique resonance to him. It was also one of the first songs he had learned to play on his guitar, and the haunting chords were like a musical meditation to his ears. He strummed the first chords, smiling as Ian closed his eyes and let the music flow through him. When Ian started to sing, in his beautiful tenor voice, it was inevitable that Quinn joined him in a tender duet.

"And it's whispered that soon if we all call the tune  
Then the piper will lead us to reason  
And a new day will dawn for those who stand long  
And the forests will echo with laughter."

These words always resonated with both of them, reminding them of their past struggles and their happiness in the here and now. When the last chords faded into the night, Quinn put the guitar aside so he could take Ian into his arms and give him the kiss he'd been waiting for all evening long.

"Ah, melamin," ('my love' in Elvish) Quinn sighed. "You inspire me more than my favorite music and books put together." He kissed Ian in a deeper declaration of love than he could ever achieve with words alone.

When he could speak again, Ian said, "Gin melin, ('I love you' in Elvish) ma sweetheart." And that simple statement spoke volumes to both of them.

Their night of romance under the stars was a gift from the Loving Force itself. 


End file.
